


Simple (X-Men AU Powerswap)

by noveltea



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-25
Updated: 2010-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noveltea/pseuds/noveltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a member of the X-Men is kidnapped, the Professor sends Scott out to rescue them. Written in 2003 as a response to minisinoo's Powerswap challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple (X-Men AU Powerswap)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for minisinoo's Powerswap Challenge back in 2003.
> 
> "I've seen several mix-n-match-power AUs, and they always have the potential to be a lot of fun, as it's often remarked how much a mutant's particular power shapes his or her personality. So my challenge is this:
> 
> Write a movieverse story featuring -- but not limited to -- Scott and Jean, in which the characters have radically different powers. That means don't give Scott Jean's telepathy or Logan's healing factor. Give him, oh, Magneto's powers, or Jubilee's, or Bobby's, or Sabretooth's. Give Jean Marrow's powers, or Mystique's, or Colossus', or Gambit's. It's perfectly acceptable to borrow powers from ANY comic-X-verse character, BUT try to change little or nothing else about Jean and Scott's backgrounds or appearances, unless affected by their (new) mutation (including Scott's status as a handicapped mutant). They came from the same families, have basically the same talents, etc.
> 
> How would they be different people? How would they be the same?
> 
> Other characters may keep their normal mutations or not, and Scott and Jean don't necessarily have to be a romantic pair. They don't even both have to be X-Men.
> 
> I guess this is kinda a "nature or nurture?" question -- with a twist. "

Professor Xavier classified it as a simple rescue mission. One of our own had been taken captive on our last "outing". Her mutation was not offensive, in that she could only trigger it when someone touched her skin. However, it seemed that her captors were too smart to touch her. She was kept fully-clothed, hands and feet bound. She was their prize.

They were located in a bar in backward part of the city. It was dark, dirty and smelt of wet mud. The people there were all considered outsiders from society, and they knew it. I could feel their resentment radiating from their bodies. That was one of the perks of being an empath - even if it was only a secondary mutation, and very undeveloped.

The night air had a slight bite to it, and I pulled my black leather jacket a bit closer to my skin. A simple mission consititued civilian style clothing. Nothing that would draw attention to me. Of course, I always drew attention in public no matter what I wore. My eyes were constantly concealed behind ruby-quartz glasses. As a child I had been in an accident, and suffered mild brain damage. However, because of this damage, I was stricken with severe headaches, which doctors presumed to be a sensitivity to light. It was discovered that ruby-quartz prevented my headaches from occurring, and it was then that I became handicapped - dependent on the glasses for my own health.

When I reached the bar, I noticed the same run-down appearance that this entire block seemed to be cursed with. The outside walls were grimy; so black with dirt that it's previous colour could not be determined - which is funny for a man who sees a world of only red, grey and black to mention, yet over the years I have come to associate shades with colours. I was hesitant to even touch the door to open it, but I was wearing gloves, so it didn't matter too much.

As I entered, no one paid too much attention. I know how these people work. As long as you don't bother them, no one will bother you. I sat at the bar and ordered a drink, non-alcoholic, and quietly observed the room. The problem with the glasses is that they take away some of my peripheral vision and as such makes it difficult to look completely inconspicuous as I look around a room. I'm sure more than a few people looked strangely at me, the stranger in glasses, casing the room. I found what I was looking for though.

In the corner of the room, darkly lit, was a table. The two men sitting there were smoking cigars, which explained the foul smell that I had caught on entering the ba, and playing cards. Huddled on a small bench behind the dealer was the small figure with a crown of bright red hair. She had not seen me enter the bar, and was looking fearfully at the men at the table.

The bartender placed my drink in front of me, and I paid him. I left a rather generous tip on the off-chance that I caused a bit of damage upon exiting. Picking up the drink I headed over to the table. Lowing my voice, I asked, "Who's that?" I inclined my head towards the girl behind him.

The dealer of the cards looked up sharply. "A mutie," he replied harshly. "Now piss off, mate. We're in the middle of a game."

Ignoring his last few remarks, I sat down at the table, placing my drink on the table. The dealer glared at me, and I would have glared straight back, but the impact would have been lost. Instead I pulled out my wallet. Judging by the current pile of money on the table, I could easily buy myself into this game. I pulled out two hundreds, and placed them on the table. This earnt me a repraisal from the dealer. I knew men like him; the valued money regardless of where it came from.

Glancing quickly behind the dealer to the girl, I saw her looking at me in fear. She knew who I was, but was worried at what I was doing. Worried what I was risking. Now that I was closer, I could see her more clearly. She was completely covered in a what had obviously been considered a blanket, but what I considered a dirty rag. She had tear stains running down her face, and her beautiful red hair was matted, and roughly tied back. Her green eyes screamed helplessness.

Four rounds later and the second man at the table folded out. Both the dealer and I appeared to be at even odds, and with an unlimited amount of money. This was my only shot, and I offered to deal this round. He looked at me curiously, but handed the deck over. I shuffled the deck, bending the corners ever-so-slightly, catching the position of every single card in the deck.

The one thing that very few people ever knew about me was that I spent a few of my childhood years on the street. In that time I picked up a great number of useful tricks, lock-picking, pick-pocketing and cheating being a few of them. One of my useful traits is a very good memory, which has always enabled me to cheat at cards, though few people would realise it. The Professor, of course, knows, and still constantly calls me on it. However, if it would get him back the girl he considered a daughter, I figured he wouldn't mind.

As I dealt out his cards, the dark man - and I never did wait around to find out his name - never suspected a thing. Empathy is a cheaters most valued friend. He thought his cards were good, and they were. Mine were just better, and I knew it. He looked at me. This was the chance for me to make my final move. I laid out one thousand dollars in cash, plus a gold wristwatch that was worth twice as much.

The man could not match it, and we both knew it. He looked slightly nervous. I looked casually behind him. "What about her? If she's a mutie like you say she is, you'd want to be rid of her. They're bad luck."

His eyes narrowed slightly. He still felt confident he could win.

"Come on, what is she to you?" I pressed.

"She is dirt," he spat, now glaring. "Alright, Mr Shades."

I smirked, and waited for him to show his cards - a triple and a pair. My smirk widened, and I revealed my own. "Straight flush," I told him matter-of-factly. The disbelief was evident in his eyes. "And now, I must take my leave with my prize, if you do not mind." I collected the rest of the winnings, and waited for him to hand her over. Fury was evident in his eyes as he roughly shoved her across the table.

I caught her just before she fell. "Scott...?" she murmured softly. She was still afraid, but there was relief emanating from her.

Brushing her hair out of her face a bit, I nodded. My gaze returned to the her captor. I nodded to him, and headed towards the bar door. I was almost there when he called out:

"You cheated! The bastard cheated!"

That of course got everyone's attention, and I turned back. "I didn't cheat - you just can't handle that you lost fair and square." I put the girl on the ground behind him, before heading back to the table. "What proof have you got that I cheated...?"

Without any notice the man had jumped out from the table, launching himself at me. I was knocked backwards. After a punch in the face, my glasses came off, and I looked my attacker in the eye. Kicking him off me and back into his table, I stood up and walked over to him. "I don't cheat," I told him roughly, throwing him back into his chair. I turned back towards the exit, absently picking up a playing card.

Without a second thought, I charged it with kinetic energy. My primary mutation - the ability to tap in the potention for kinetic energy, creating explosive charges with just a thought and a touch. Very good distractions. I dropped the charged card in the middle of the floor - a centralised location. It would explode, but no one was close enough to be seriously harmed by it.

The second I dropped it, I scooped up my "prize" and walked briskly out the door, just as the charge went off. It was only a short walk to the car I had waiting. I placed her on the back seat, and wrapped a real blanket around her. As I went to shut the back door, she grabbed my hand. "Scott... I..." I looked back down at her, and smiled reassuringly.

"Everything's going to be fine now, Jean." She seemed to take these words as reassurance, and closed her eyes. "Thank you, Scott."


End file.
